One Night Stand With My Ex's Billionaire Enemy-Chapter 145 Memories

"Happy birthday," he said again.

He placed it on the worktable.

The cake inside was tiny. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Four inches, maybe.

Enough for two.

The icing was smooth and white, with a single purple flower piped dead center.

No glitter, no sprinkles.

Just that flower, neat, precise, a shade darker than amethyst.

Primrose, my birth flower.

I stared at it for a few seconds.

"Thanks," I said quietly, before my voice could crack.

He lit a candle on top, just one, and grinned at me.

"Make a wish."

The flame flickered.

I closed my eyes.

Nothing came to mind right away.

My brain spun in ten directions before settling.

I opened my eyes and blew out the candle.

The smoke curled upward, sharp and faint.

"Happy birthday," Ashton said.

I repeated it. "Happy birthday to me."

The heat in the room had settled into my chest.

It wasn’t from the heater.

"Cake?" he asked.

Then he swiped a finger through the frosting and smeared it across my cheek.

"Birthday girl."

I blinked. Then grabbed a chunk off the side and smeared it across his jaw.

He froze, then laughed.

I did too.

After a minute, we sat down and actually ate the thing.

He cut it with a palette knife from my workbench.

The sponge was light, the cream dense and cold.

Vanilla, maybe, with a bit of lemon.

Best cake I’d ever had, no contest.

Ashton started clearing the crumbs.

I leaned back in my chair and looked past him, through the glass.

Outside, the wind had picked up.

Coats flapped behind people like sails.

Everyone rushed somewhere.

Cars jammed up at the lights, horns layered over each other, red and white flashing across wet asphalt.

Everything had snapped back to normal.

The fireworks were gone. Not even smoke left behind.

I didn’t know how many people would remember them after a week, a month, a year.

Probably none.

But I would.

I’d remember the exact shapes of the lights. The cake. The fingerful of cream on my face.

I’d remember the one who made it all happen.

***

Three days later.

I was supposed to meet Yvaine for lunch. Noon sharp.

At eleven, she still hadn’t shown, which was weird.

She usually popped into my studio hours early to steal coffee and complain about frosting temperatures.

I crossed the street to Sugar & Whim.

The door creaked open.

Cold air swept past my knees.

Inside, it was too quiet.

Then I heard it.

Soft crying, coming from the back.

I stepped over a pile of wood panels and torn cardboard, and found her sitting on the floor.

Her jeans were dust-streaked. Her face blotchy.

She had both arms wrapped around her knees like a child.

"What happened?" I rushed over. "Why are you on the floor? Did the contractors bail again?"

She wiped under her nose with the back of her hand. Her voice cracked. "I told them to come later."

I pulled her up by the elbows and shoved her into the nearest chair. "The floor’s freezing. Tell me what’s going on."

She didn’t. She just latched onto my neck and started sobbing against my shoulder, her whole body shaking.

I rubbed circles between her shoulder blades.

"Hey, hey, breathe. Just talk to me. What is it?"

She finally lifted her head. Her cheeks were soaked. Her voice came out in gasps.

"I broke up with Cassian."

"What?"

"We’re over."

I stared at her. "You two lasted, what, two weeks? Emmett nearly killed him last time, and you still stuck with it. What happened? Your brother again?"

"It wasn’t Emmett. I should’ve listened to you. All of you. Cassian’s just a smug, lying piece of shit. The second he thought he had me, he stopped pretending."

My stomach dropped.

I already knew.

"He cheated?"

She nodded. Her hands were clenched in her lap.

"Some D-list actress. I caught them last night at his flat. He didn’t even try to lie about it, just said she’s the lead in that new show he bankrolled. The one he kept saying he hated. Turns out he’d been throwing money at it the whole time to get her attention."

I slammed my palm against the table.

The crash bounced off the empty walls.

"Fucking bastard. Why didn’t you tell me yesterday? We could’ve made sure he never got it up again."

Yvaine let out a shaky breath and reached for a napkin.

She dabbed her eyes, calmer now.

"He said it in front of her. That we were never serious. That it was all just... fun for him. I didn’t want to argue and look pathetic. So I left. I didn’t cry, I just walked out like I didn’t give a damn."

She paused, crumpling the napkin between her fingers.

"I thought I was fine. I told myself I didn’t care. But then I got here, and everything felt too quiet, and it hit me all at once."

Her voice cracked at the end, and she pressed her mouth shut.

I crouched next to her chair and pulled her into a hug, squeezing tight.

"You got out before he could waste any more of your time. That’s not weakness. That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever done."

I meant it.

I didn’t trust Cassian Langford the first time I saw him pretend to care.

The way he kissed Yvaine’s hand in that hospital room, like he’d just stepped out of a soap opera.

Now he’d ripped off the mask in under four weeks.

That had to be some kind of record.

"So what now?" I asked.

Yvaine sat up and wiped her face hard, smearing what was left of her mascara into a grey line under each eye.

"I needed the cry. That was it. Last fucking tear he’s getting from me." She sniffed once, then threw the napkin on the floor. "I’m not gonna curl up and die over a flaccid cucumber. He can rot with his little actress."

Then she scowled.

"I don’t even know why I cried. It’s not like I liked him that much. He was just something to do. A time-filler. That’s all."

"You don’t have to lie to me. Or to yourself."